


Cold Comfort

by TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy



Series: Vaenath [1]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Character Background Story, Demon Sex, Other, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:02:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29884971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy/pseuds/TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy
Summary: Vaenath is a void elf warlock exiled from Silvermoon with his new people, mourning his lost life.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Undisclosed
Series: Vaenath [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2197302
Kudos: 5





	Cold Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> background story for my own oc  
> self indulgence time again people

Vaenath huddled up on the bed in his flimsy tent. Outside was absolute silence, a swirling void around the last broken remnants of a once beautiful planet—or so he was told. They’d been in Telogrus Rift for a few weeks now, but days had already stopped to hold meaning for him, as for them all. 

When they were awake, they meditated, let the void energy wash over and through them… when they were tired, they slept until they started everything all over again. Some of them shared their tents… but Vaenath couldn’t face them. He knew that if one of them said a wrong word, he’d snap and do something he’d regret.

He was angry. Angry at the forces of Silvermoon, who had exiled them. Angry at his family, who had cut all ties with him. Angry at the others, who treated this abysmal exile as their greatest achievement. Angry at himself, because he had associated with Magister Umbric in his youthful foolishness.

Vaenath still felt most at home with the void, but this place only made it clear he had no true home left, which made him most angry of all.

He had placed his tent on a remote island, floating far away from the others so they couldn’t hear him when he let his anger out on himself, pressing bruises into his arms and legs, relishing the pain as it flooded his mind and pushed out everything else.

Today… today was different, though. Today his mind had drifted too far and he remembered the face of the man, who he didn’t dare name, even in his mind. His beautiful face, the golden hair and shining green eyes. Vaenath remembered him and cried, for the elf he had lost and for himself. He didn’t even dare look into a mirror anymore. 

Even though he had once looked very much like his past love, he knew he had changed—was still changing every time the void passed through his body. His eyes were shining violet, his skin was turning ashen, his hair was almost black. He’d been so furious at it… he’d cut it short himself, crooked and wrong, just so he didn’t have to look at it anymore.

He had lost everything, even himself.

Tonight, with the face of his past in his mind and the loathing burning in his veins, the bruises on his arms weren’t enough. It just… it crawled under his skin, eating him from the inside out. He needed something… anything!

Suddenly, something knocked on his mind. Through the mental connection he shared with his demons they sometimes called out to him from beyond. Out here, in the middle of the swirling void, the connection was stronger. He gave in to the call and opened a small portal from which his felhunter emerged.

“My only friend left in this world,” Vaenath whispered. “Did you sense the distress in my mind?”

The felhunter was a fearsome creature, all spikes and teeth. It was a hunter of magic, killing mages effortlessly as its favourite prey. But Vaenath trusted his own felhunter companion with his life. It jumped up on the narrow bed and nestled in beside him, hard scales brushing against his face. The only soft thing about it was the fur on its belly. Vaenath wrapped his arms around it and sighed.

“Thank you.”

The felhunter growled. Vaenath hadn’t bothered to name it. It probably already had a name. They were content as they were. Vaenath laid back again and let the heavy creature settle in on top of him. Maybe he would find sleep like this at another time… but gentle warmth wasn’t what he was seeking right now. He gave the felhunter a mental command and felt the resistance immediately.

“Please…” he said. “I need it.”

The creature stood up and loomed above him. He could feel the reluctance still, but then it rubbed itself across Vaenath’ exposed torso. The rough scales caught on him and made his skin sing. It wasn’t enough to draw blood, but in its wake Vaenath’ skin was red, agitated and burning.

“Again,” he breathed.

This time he was bleeding. The top layer of his skin was pierced, long scratches welled up and he had to hold his mouth close not to scream.

It was perfect.

He panted from the pain, eyes resolutely closed, relishing the adrenaline in his veins. The felhunter lowered its head and applied a long tongue to the cuts. It burned as if Vaenath’ had been doused in disinfecting alcohol. He writhed, fingers digging into the felhunter’s fur around his neck, edging it on in his mind. The felhunter seemed to enjoy the taste of his blood, which had turned blue by the influence of the void.

Suddenly he realised that he was hard. Straining, pulsing. This hadn’t happened since he’d left Silvermoon. Not since he’d been in the arms of the elf with the golden hair. He’d let no one touch him since then. Was this all it took, then? One touch and he was desperate?

The felhunter made another low growl and Vaenath made a decision. It was lucky he could direct his companion by thought, because he’d never be able to voice his desire out loud. The creature rumbled and moved down his body, large tooth mouth opening, panting. Vaenath reached lower and pulled at his pants with shaking fingers. He drew them down, his cock springing up, brushing against the fur.

“Please forgive me,” he whispered to no one in particular, because who was left to forgive him?

The felhunter extended his tongue and licked over Vaenath’s exposed cock. He jumped at the sensation. It was smooth and burning at the same time. Pleasure and sharp pain. Despite the thin tent walls he cried out, overwhelmed by the sensation. It hurt more than it was pleasurable or any other sensation. But it was good. So good. Exactly what he needed right now.

“More…” he panted and the felhunter seemed to understand.

It wrapped its long tongue around his cock and started to move it. Vaenath sobbed both in pain and relief. It didn’t matter anymore because he was coming almost immediately, body convulsing. His vision was clouded by tears. Then he realised the demon was licking him clean, the hot tongue drawing brands of fire across his skin. He felt the contentment in its mind, because it felt his and echoed it back.

“I’m sorry I used you like this…”

The felhunter growled and laid down to snuggle up to him, all sulfur smell, sharp edges and devotion.

“So you don’t mind? I’m glad.”

He curled into the demon and cried for his home, his family and his first love.


End file.
